if you are battle weary,
lay down your weapons of mass destruction,
remember the process of
internal combustion, how only after food is swallowed
the process of digestion, assimilation
and elimination begin,

you reach for the sun like a beautiful flower,
or a wonderful weed that grows exactly with proximity
in the same good earth. (Benevolent in a simple
offering of soil, water and light.)
....remember someone must have taught you which
is which and what to pull, and if I were you, I would
thank the weed for its generous sacrifice in the perfect
garden you will have planted.

2.

The stories we tell are telling on us,
thunder rolls in,
the sky opens and storms on men...
dance nakedly around campfires
flames lick the wind
tales of glory, twice told tales,

yet there is a delicate balance in the
perfect silence that holds all things
close to its breast.
the owl speaks kindly
to the night air,
shooting stars pass this way but once,
the lonesome moon knows this.

And the rain falls come what may.

3.

...dancing with these words
in the white ash of consuming desire
i rise to the occasion of myself,
these utterances no longer
visible or invisible,
a reality unto itself
like music rapturing

i feel your
presence, like a new life stirring inside
my womb,

What now my Love?
Who dances these hallowed spaces?
What dreams may come?

Which words shall form our lips?

Do not dance away, my Love.